


Resources

by TK_DuVeraun



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Sunshine and Flowers, light and fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: Commander Cullen is busy, tired andnot alone in his office. Hopefully the intruder can be stopped with a sword, if not... Well, he may just be done for.





	Resources

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fourletterepithet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourletterepithet/gifts).



> For Fourletterepithet, who won my winter holiday giveaway! Congrats and thanks for working with me. Check out their works!

Cullen closed the door to his office behind him and regretted it. The clack of wood meeting frame clanged against the inside of his head like a chorus of Chantry bells. His mouth opened, but he held the groan back. Eyes squeezed shut, he stepped up to his desk and adjusted his sword so he could sit. A pile of letters, precarious and teetering, greeted him when he opened his eyes. Reports he organized into piles by region. Complaints he tossed to the floor to be dealt with later. Troop requests were trickier. He mulled over each for a full minute before they either joined the complaints on the floor or laid on top of the relevant region’s reports.

A grimace dragged itself across his face at the fifth  _ sealed _ missive with Leliana’s spidery notes scribbled in the margins. She didn’t have to reattach the wax. The duplicity just scratched and chafed against his blue-tinged paranoia.  _ You should really answer this one, _ the spidery hand said on one of three letters from Mia. Cullen gave the letter another read; the farm’s yield was poor: Branson wanted to know if demons would destroy the next season’s, too. 

_ Mia, Tell Branson Velth- _ Cullen sighed and carefully tore off the top of the page. He tried again.  _ Mia, Tell Branson the Inquisitor has it well in hand. _

He signed the missive with a flourish and then reread it. He smiled. In hand. Because the anchor was in her hand. He sprinkled fine sand over the ink and then pushed back from his desk. The chair legs screeched against the uneven stone, the sound cutting through his skull like a boning knife. He took a deep breath and recited the Canticle of Trials in his head until the throbbing stopped.

Cullen drank the last of the water from the pitcher on his side table and turned it upside-down to signal its need of a refill. He rubbed the back of his neck as he eyed the regional piles of reports. One he could delegate to Rylen, another to Desjardins, but the rest he would have to read through himself. His hand was halfway to the pile for the Fallow Mire when a sneeze froze every muscle in his body. If he’d been an elf, his ears would have swiveled to pinpoint the source. Definitely in the room. A little to the - a sniffle - yes, to the left and up. An assassin? Hiding behind his bed?

He eyed the ladder. He could climb it with sword in hand, but he’d still be at a disadvantage if the assassin tried to attack as he did so. Without taking his eyes off the ladder, Cullen stood and stepped around his desk. With no way to muffle his sabatons, he instead tried to make his gait sound natural. He stopped near the door, ready to throw it open in the assassin’s face or call for assistance. On a measured inhale, Cullen drew his sword.

“Hah! Show yourself!” Cullen bellowed.

Of the possible reactions, Cullen had not even considered a squeak and thump, followed by a yelp of pain.

He blinked.

“Uh… It’s just me!”

“Inquisitor?” Cullen lowered his sword when he saw Velthei’s head appeared over the side of his bed. He sheathed his sword. “What are you doing in my quarters?”

“Nothing! I mean, a book! I was looking to borrow a book!” Velthei said, her hands hidden behind her back. Her hair was in disarray and there was straw and herbs on the front of her jacket.

Double-stacked shelves of books lined the wall behind him and wrapped around to his right until they hit the door. Cullen glanced at them before looking back at her. “Up… there?”

“The one I wanted was up here!” She disappeared for a moment as she scrambled for something on the floor. “Uh, this one, yeah!  The Exalted March of the Da- ” Velthei squeaked again and dropped the book, as if it had burned her. “I was just-”

Cullen stood nonplussed as his pillow thwacked him in the face. He was still blinking the stars out of his eyes when Velthei made it down the ladder and stood opposite him.

“I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea! My grandmother taught me - you know, old Dalish traditions - which herbs lead to deeper, more restful sleep. They won’t get rid of the nightmares or anything, but I stuffed them in your pillow. And, and then the mattress. You get feverish when they’re bad, so I had Dagna make some cooling plates to put in the stuffing. You won’t even feel them, just- I don’t think you’re unfit! I just wanted to help.” Velthei hardly paused for breath for the duration of her speech. Her cheeks were flushed with emotion and stray wisps of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead.

_ Maker, _ but he wanted to brush them away.

To cleanse his thoughts, Cullen covered his own flaming cheeks with the pillow and sniffed. “It’s… very soothing. Thank you, -Inquisitor.” He stumbled over the title and bowed his head. “It means a great deal, but I do not want to distract you from your duties.”

“Nothing! I mean,  _ it was nothing. _ Nothing. Two seconds. And I was doing it for myself, too, so I was just going to- You know, I think I am supposed to have tea with Vivienne. I’ll see you at the next War Council, Commander!”

And then she was gone.

Cullen blinked, feeling like he’d just weathered a storm. He sniffed the pillow again. At least it was past. He didn’t think he could handle this being merely the eye.


End file.
